About Fion
Fion is a pediatric nurse practitioner and clinical operations leader practicing primary care in a community-based safety-net health system. Her work focuses on how healthcare systems are experienced by the people inside them - patients, families, and the clinicians providing care.
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In addition to clinical practice, she serves as adjunct faculty at the University of San Francisco School of Nursing and Health Professions and teaches pediatric and adolescent health topics to nursing trainees entering practice.
Her clinical experience spans newborn care through young adulthood, with particular interest in behavioral health, preventive care, and the ways communication shapes medical outcomes. She has worked across hospital, public health, and outpatient settings, developing care processes aimed at improving access and trust for youth and families.
Across practice and teaching, she approaches medicine not only as a science, but as a human environment people must learn to navigate.
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She lives and works in the San Francisco Bay Area
In Fion's Words
I was given a Fisher-Price doctor kit as a toddler and never really put it down. I listened for heartbeats in my stuffed animals, the couch, the dining table, and eventually my baby brother, but it wasn’t play that stayed with me. It was watching my mother.
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She carried an eight-inch scar down the center of her abdomen from the emergency cesarean delivery that brought me into the world weeks early. A new immigrant without English, prenatal care, or insurance, she was separated from me while I was placed in the NICU. For years she would repeat the same sentence: they took you away and no one told me why.
I grew up understanding healthcare first as confusion.
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My own birth is still largely a mystery to us. What stayed clear was her reluctance to return to medical spaces - a reluctance I later learned is shared by many families. Long before I had clinical training, I understood that medicine could be technically successful and still leave someone unheard.
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That realization shaped the way I practice.
In clinic I meet children and caregivers at moments that look routine on paper but feel irreversible in real life - the first serious diagnosis, the question a teenager isn’t sure they should ask, the visit where reassurance matters more than treatment. Medicine often records these encounters as data. People experience them as memory. Over time I noticed I was carrying pieces of these moments with me after the visit ended. Writing became a way to examine them - to understand what participating in care does to the people inside it, including the clinician. Some essays begin in medicine and leave it quickly. Others never mention it at all but were born there anyway. This space exists to hold the observations that don’t belong in chart notes: uncertainty, expectation, family, identity, and the quiet ways people change each other.
I write to make sense of experiences that are clinically ordinary and personally enormous. If you find something of yourself here, then the noticing is working.